i voted for prop eight dipshit. more weddings = more CAKE.
Fuck. These are the symptoms I had when I was pregnant. This could be bad.
I swear, if he gets me a bowling ball for Christmas, I will throw it at him.
Have invented new cocktail. Any flavor of crystal light and vodka. I call it "I am going to die alone"
I wonder if he has realized that I have poured all if those shots he bought into the tip jar
I blacked out before two in the afternoon yesterday. Now that's a successful birthday.
i made up my own drinking game and i took a secret shot every time someone asked me about school or my future
So what's going on?
We hit boys town to get stupid. I mean invading Iraq stupid.
I wouldn't call that a crush. It was more of a minor brain aneurism.
I just wish I had a snapshot of his attempted front flip off the bar. There are some things that are worth getting a life ban for, and the moment of impact with his foot and that lady's face was one of those things.
When I wake up, please remind me why my shoe is in the toilet, my shower is filled with jello, and there is a naked girl sleeping on my coffee table holding a bag of Cheetos. that is all.
But how MUCH of an emergency? Like, should I go to the ER now, or can it wait until after the bar crawl?
The fact that I bookended my summer with pregnancy scares doesn't upset me. The fact that he's a trombone major does...
I think I found my saving grace in the form of a beard at the bar.
it's a shower with the lights off kind of day
Randomize
